


Serein

by Wickedlovely01



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Based on True Events, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Panic, Panic Attack, anxiety attack, based on true events that happened to me, bc alex is a fucking whore let's be honest, everything else is in the past or not happening, he's constantly fucking horny, lams is actually the only pairing, poor alex my baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 23:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7127651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wickedlovely01/pseuds/Wickedlovely01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(n.) the fine, light rain that falls from a clear night sky at sunset or in the early hours of night; evening serenity </p><p>      ex - Alexander Hamilton fell asleep in the back of the car, feeling like serein.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Serein

**Author's Note:**

> HI! I should be writing the sickfic everyone wants, but I've hit really bad writers block with that story, so here's this shit instead. I wrote another anixety fic for Alex, but this one is a lot better? I don't know... I like both a lot. Anyways, enjoy whatever this is. I don't even know.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: mentions of suicide, suicide attempts, anxiety. Please, if you're triggered by any of these things, don't read my story. It's not worth it.

Had Angelica still worked at the grocery store, this wouldn’t have happened.

But Angelica had moved across the ocean to England.

She said goodbye to Alexander, at least. He’d seen her off at the airport at four in the morning. Eliza and John were with him, Eliza because that was her sister, John because Alex needed moral support that someday she was going to come back. He’d always had a problem with people leaving.

His father left when Alex was ten.

His mother left when Alex was twelve.

That same year, just four months later, his cousin took a bullet to his head and left him.

James left him when Alex was fourteen and he was eighteen. No one wanted to hang around their annoying kid brother anyways. He went off, joined a gang in St. Croix, and by the time Alex had been flown to America, had landed himself in the over-occupied juvenile hall just a couple of streets up from where they used to live. There was a point where he tried to keep in touch with James, just like he did with his father, but it seemed neither of them had the time or the want to talk to the youngest Hamilton.

Though still dark out, when the four people got out of Eliza’s 2002 Honda Accord they were hit with a burst of hot air. God had turned up the furnace in New York City, and Alexander was uncomfortable. This wasn’t the kind of heat he was used to or enjoyed. This was hot, humid, and unbearably sticky. The promise of a storm scattered on the light southern breeze. John helped Angelica gather her things.

She was thirty four weeks pregnant with a son. Philip. Her husband had gone ahead two months before to secure a house and a suitable business job offer. Eliza kissed her cheek, hugged her, said goodbye. John stood there, bags ready in hand. He’d go in with her, help her put the bags where they needed to go. Eliza didn’t have the muscle. Alex didn’t have the heart. If he went in, he wasn’t sure he could come out without Angelica. As it was, when she turned to him to say farewell, his eyes were already brimming with hot, salty tears.

“Please, Hammie,” She used the nickname he’d fallen in love with. No one else called him that. She cupped his cheek, and Alex swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing. “Don’t cry. You know I’ll come back.”

“You could have stayed here.” He protested, and now the tears slipped down his face, and she was lying and there would be no more  _ Angelica and Alexander _ there would just be  _ Alexander _ and it didn’t matter that she was married, he still loved her like he loved John like he loved Eliza like he loved Lafayette. She wiped them away, but she couldn’t wipe away the tightening of his throat. “I could have taken care of you.”

Angelica’s smile was a dazzling radiance of the sun. There was a reason why angel was in her name. There was a reason Alex’s knees turned into jelly that night at the college party. It took place at the Schuyler sister’s house. He’d been dating Eliza at the time. They made out in her bedroom a lot, drinking cheap Bud Light from red solo cups, clothes crumpled into an indecent pile on the floor. Angelica came in at some point. Alex recalled very vaguely her telling Eliza that the buffet was ready anytime she was hungry for something other than ham.

Alex stood up, smiling drunkenly, and he said hello in a weak voice, and she raked her eyes up and down his almost naked figure, sizing him up. She raised her eyebrows, crossed her arms, and returned the salutations in a voice that wasn’t cold but wasn’t warm either. She did that a lot, even now. Alex called it her mom voice. They talked for a little bit while Eliza got dressed and went to get some food for the both of them. Alex threw up all over Angelica’s tight red dress. It had looked expensive.

_ She _ looked expensive.

She looked like a million diamonds in the moonlight, and the the sun she looked like gold. Not that fake gold shit you can peel off and reveal ugly black underneath. Angelica was  _ real _ gold. She was the thing the miners were looking for all those years ago. Even pregnant, she had an heavenly glow about her.

“I’m sure you could have.” She smiled, and Alex broke down. Angelica held him. “I’ll be back. I know you’re worried, but I’ll be back. I’ll come home for Christmas, and you’ll get to see me again. I’ll take you to our ice cream place.” They stayed like that for a long time, just holding each other, Angelica smoothing down his hair, which hadn’t been pulled back. They both knew part of this breakdown was the early morning hours. Alexander really wasn’t a morning person, no matter how much sleep he’d gotten. This week, there was barely eight hours under his belt, and John had only managed to get him to sleep for an hour before rousing him again. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he shook from the caffeine withdrawal he was currently suffering from.

Eliza and John didn’t break them up, just stood there silently as Alex sobbed, begged for her not to go, and Angelica stroking his hair, kissing his scalp lovingly, and whispering to him that everything was going to be okay. Eventually, they had to pull apart, and Eliza was there to hold Alexander as he let out a heart-wrenching scream. John led Angelica away. Eliza helped Alex into the backseat of her car, because he was still tired, and he couldn’t breath and Angie was gone and nothing was going to be okay like she said.  By the time John had come back fifteen minutes later, Alex was practicing his breathing with Eliza, and soft music was emitting from the radio. He slid in the backseat, buckled his seatbelt, and allowed his boyfriend to lay his head in his lap.

Thank god Eliza was a safe driver.

“John... Can I have some coffee? I want some coffee.” Exhaustion had hit him like a ton of bricks. It always did after an attack, no matter how major or minor. On a scale of one to ten, Alex thought this was a four, because even if his thoughts had jumbled together and it was hard to breathe, he still knew where he was and there was only one actual scream. There had been worse.

“Later, okay?” Soft hands were in his hair. John had artist hands, soft and pliable and capable. Alex’s eyes began to droop close. Eliza stopped gently at a red light. He could see the faint outline of the sun on the horizon. Everything was subdued and quiet, and for once he didn’t really mind it, because he saved a lot of his loud and colorful adventures for Angelica. Most people thought she was a buzzkill, but Alex had had more fun with her than with anybody else. “None of the stores are open right now, and you’re shaking and tired. Sleep, baby, just go to sleep.”

“I have work.” He said, and it wasn’t a reason not to sleep, just a cautious reminder.

John kissed his head. “Yeah, but not until three in the afternoon. You’ll be fine, just close your eyes and take deep breaths.” Alex did so, and he felt a little better, because John was holding him, and he wasn’t pushing him to do anything uncomfortable, and Eliza was humming softly to a Mozart piece. She had a lovely voice, and he focused on that as he let sleep pull him into darkness.

***

“You’re sure he’ll be fine? I can totally stay and make you two breakfast.” 

“No, no. He’s okay, ‘Liza. He gets like this sometimes, when he has to say goodbye. Don’t make us breakfast, we don’t really have anything that I couldn’t make with my eyes closed. Go home, get some rest. I don’t think Peg would be too happy to see her older sister crabby and cranky at her seventeenth birthday party.”

“Right... Are you going?”

“Nah. Alex has work until eleven, I think, and he kind of needs me to be a solid rock. Can’t do that if I’m hammered.”

There was a long pause, then Eliza’s voice again, monotoned and unamused. “There’s not going to be any alcohol at an underage party, John. I’m basically there as a damn chaperone. I’d be glad for the company.”

“I’ll see what I can do. I’ll text you later when Alex is awake, keep you updated.” Goodbyes were said for the second time that day, and a door was closed.

Alexander had been awake the entire time, the bedroom door was open and it let in a stream of light from the living room. He looked over at the clock, saw that it was five thirty-six, and grumbled. He hated being up before the sun was. He hated being this tired all the damn time, but no matter what he did, he could never find a solution. John came in, and Alex flipped on his side, trying to even out his frustrated breathing so it looked like he was still asleep. John worried about him a lot. He worried about Alex sleeping or eating, about the frequent tremors in his hands, about his numerous panic attacks. Alex felt guilty about making John worry. No one should have to put their own health at risk just for another, and if that made him a hypocrite, then so be it.

He felt John lay beside him, pull the covers up over them. Alexander turned over so he could press his cold nose to his boyfriend’s warm chest. John smelled like everything right in the world. He smelled like sea salt and pepper, lavender, a hint of lemon. It sent shivers down Alex’s spine, and the other man wrapped his arms closely around him, tugging him closer until they were almost one person. Alex wanted to reach out, tuck a stray curl behind his ears, kiss his jaw, but that would break the illusion.

Angelica may have been expensive, but John Laurens was priceless.

It was one of the reasons they started dating, actually. Alexander couldn’t take the stress of finals, and his anxiety pills had been long since used up, so he took a cold razor to his wrists. His Honors English essay was due in an hour, and though it had a second draft, Alexander couldn’t fix it. He couldn’t make it the quality everyone expected of him, because who the  _ fuck _ cared about fucking Melville and fucking Bartleby the Scrivener. If he couldn’t write utter perfection, then why the hell was he still here?

That was all he was good for, writing.

Red ran along his fingertips.

John had found him sooner or later, because the door was locked and he needed to pee. They were in Hercules and Lafayette’s apartment. Alex didn’t know why taking his own life in his friend’s bathroom seemed like a good idea, it just did at the time.By the time he’d busted the door off its hinges, Alexander was crumpled in the white bathtub. His face was pale and he was damn near unresponsive, but they all made it through that night, that week, that month.

John visited him everyday in the psych ward. He brought Alex flowers, all varying degrees of species, but always colorful.  He loved them, fell in love with John and his smile. The world was dark, but John was a bit brighter than everything else. Eliza gently broke it off with Alexander, mostly because she didn’t want to be known as a pity case if they were still dating and he actually committed suicide. He couldn’t blame her, didn’t necessarily try to stop her when she turned and left. Everyone thought Eliza was heartless and cruel, but Alexander appreciated her honesty. He appreciated Eliza and still loved her unconditionally.

Once he was finally released, he noticed John a lot more. He noticed the freckles like gold. He was gold, like Angelica. He noticed  his slight laugh that only came when they were alone, and it sounded genuine instead of forced. John never pushed him to talk about that night, never made him call people or drive. John never made him uncomfortable, and Alex fell in love.

He reasoned that he should probably sleep, because he was cranky when there were bags under his eyes. They had gotten a new front end manager at his store, a guy named Craig. He was supposed to be the new Angelica. He wasn’t ever going to be Angelica. However, Alex couldn’t get his heart rate to settle, so once John could be moved without waking up, he sat up and grabbed his laptop, ready to begin on his PoliSci essay.

After the brightness was turned down, Alexander noticed a message on his desktop. His phone and computer were both synced.

**_Angelica:_ ** _ Call me if things at work get to be too much. Told Craig about your anxiety. If he gives you any crap, tell me. I’ll personally come back and beat his stupid white ass. I’ll be back soon, Alex. I won’t let you down. _

Despite his sadness at her leaving, Alex smiled at her stoic wit. She never took crap from anyone, not strangers, not her boss, not her friends, not even Eliza. She kicked ass and took names. If Marvel ever decided to make a superhero movie that revolved around a woman, Alex wanted it to be called ‘Angelica’, and he wanted her to play the main lead. She deserved it. He didn’t answer back, though, and just opened a word document, starting to type in the dark.

MODERN LIBERALISM, CONSERVATISM, AND LIBERTARIANISM

_ Alexander Hamilton _

“Mmph... Alex?” After a couple of hours, John’s rough voice sounded from the cocoon of blankets he’d surrounded himself with. That was another reason sleeping was not an option; John Laurens was a notorious blanket hog. When Alexander didn’t answer, his boyfriend nudged him. “Alex...” His sleepy whine pulled the writer from his sixth page of words.

“Mm?”

“What time is it?”

God, his voice was something else. “Dunno.”

“Could you check?”

Alex peered at the top right of his laptop. “Eight twenty.” He felt John stir beside him as he fell back into the rhythm of writing. There were hands around his waist, a head pressed into his shoulder, and kisses were applied to his neck. For just a moment, the trance was broken, and Alex’s fingers stopped and twitched before he shook his head and began to type again.

“You need to sleep... You’re so tired, baby girl. The airport took a lot out of you, huh?”

“Mm.”

A slight huff, and John peeled himself off of Alex. “I promised Eliza I’d make you breakfast today. You in the mood for anything? We’ve got eggs, toast... Pretty sure I’ve got some fruity pebbles or pancake batter. Ah, fruity pebble pancakes. Now  _ that’s _ an adventure you haven’t had with Angelica.” There was a smile on John’s face, but Alex frowned and pulled his knees and laptop closer. “Okay. Not funny. I’m sorry. But seriously, what do you want for breakfast?”

“I’m working.”

“Yeah, not something I can make you. Not an option.”

“Coffee.”

“ _ Food _ , Alexander. I’m going to keep pestering you until you give me an actual legit answer.”

“Jesus fuck... Fine, toast. I don’t care, John. Make whatever you wanna make.”

“Toast it is then!” Alex felt John hop off the bed, and he turned back to his essay. It wasn’t due for another week, yet there was nothing to do, and he didn’t want to think to hard about his life outside of college right now. If he didn’t do well in college then the scholarships would run out and he’d be in debt and he wouldn’t be able to pay for the one bedroom apartment John and him had together and everyone would probably get fed up with him and send him back to St. Croix.

_ Stop. _

But his thoughts wouldn’t stop they just kept coming they kept coming like water and water drowns and water kills and he didn’t want to think and the whiteness of the words document went from white to yellow to purple and now it was getting darker and darker and college tuition wasn’t free Alex you have to pay you have to take care of John and Angelica left where was Angelica she said she’d be back but she wasn’t back where was she he needed her because without her there was no  _ Angelica and Alexander _ there was only  _ Alexander _ and how was he supposed to cope?

_ Stop. _

“Babe,” John’s voice cut through his incessant monologue, stopped the voices in his head that all sounded the same but were overlapping. “Hey, Alex.” Alex felt his temple being tapped gently. “Where are you right now? Can you come back to me? I miss you.”

“Miss Angelica…” He heard himself mumble. Was his breathing ragged? He couldn’t tell. There was a far away sound of china on wood.

“Alright, alright. I know. Shh, you’re alright. Angie’s alright. I’m alright. Take a deep breath in for me. Good, good. That’s good. Breathe out, slowly. Wonderful, you’re doing great. Breathe in, breathe out. Perfect, baby.” They continued the breathing exercise. John didn’t touch him. Alex was grateful. When he’d taken control of his own thoughts again, he realized that John had moved his laptop off of his thighs, and where the computer was the blanket and his skin were especially heated. The bedroom door was open; he could clearly see part of the cheap beige couch they got at a garage sale, and the light from the kitchen.

There was one of his security blankets over his shoulders. They kept most under the bed, but one at the hospital with John, in case his illness took a turn for the worse and no one wanted to leave him alone, and one was in Alex’s backpack, which he carried everywhere. This one was the one John made him for valentines day; one of those felt ones that were secured by knots. This blanket had cartoon chicken legs on it, because the fabric was cheap and it was a last minute gift idea, and also because chicken was Alex’s favorite food. He tugged it closer, running one of the ends back and forth on the pads of his fingers.

John was sitting across from him, head tipped back and nostrils flaring, arms holding him. Alex felt a pang of guilt, knowing he probably caused John’s  _ own _ anxiety to spike. “S...Sorry...”

“No, there’s no need. It’s okay. How are you feeling?” Then John made eye contact with Alex, and so maybe John was okay. Maybe John was telling the truth and there was no danger and everything was fine.

Alexander shrugged. “Emotionally drained. Like... A train could hit me full on force and I probably wouldn’t care. I’d let it kill me.”

“Okay, well let’s not do that. I would be very sad if you let a train hit you.” Something warm was pressed into his hands. Coffee? “Drink this, baby.” When Alex sipped, he found out that John had made him tea. It tasted like chamomile, but with a hint of... Was that peppermint? It didn’t matter. It felt good on his aching throat, soothing on his rough hands. “You should call in today.”

“No.”

“Alex, please? You’ve already had two panic attacks today. This isn’t a good mental health week for you anyways. You’ve been stressed, and haven’t been taking care of yourself. Going to work for eight hours isn’t smart.  _ I _ wouldn’t even do it.” Alex just kept drinking his tea, slightly rocking back and forth to get rid of the pins and needles feeling in his left hand. That was the hand he wrote with, most of the time.

“I don’t wanna s-seem weak.” The way his voice cracked and went up at the end posed it more as a question than a statement.

He felt John take the mug from him after he took one long swallow and finished it off. Soft circles were being rubbed on his wrist. John’s thumbs were slightly calloused from the fast approaching winter, but they provided something to focus on other than what he could see and hear. “You’re not weak, baby. No one thinks you’re weak.”

“Daddy did... That’s why Daddy left.”

John pulled Alex close, ran his fingers through the shaking boy’s hair. Alex hummed in agreement with his own statement. “No, Alex. Your father left because he knew he’d hold you back, pull you down. It wasn’t anything you did. Please take a break. I want you to take a break.” Alexander felt John nuzzle his slightly cold nose into his scalp, kissing him softly. “I don’t care what you think you owe the world, Alexander. You owe nothing. You used your own mind to climb out of the Caribbean, and I don’t know much about your past, but I know  _ you _ , Alex, and you deserve a break.”

It was rude to interrupt. At debate meetings, Alex hated when Burr cut him off, grew infuriated when Madison did it, and almost because a motherfucking volcano when Jefferson interjected. He wanted to tell John that he  _ was _ weak, and he needed to prove that he wasn’t because he  _ wasn’t a fucking charity case. _ He wasn’t those children he saw everyday on television, malnourished, with their hands outstretched, as if the first world people could drop their fatty snacks through the screen.  He wasn’t. He wasn’t he wasn’t he wasn’t. But John never stopped talking, and maybe that was okay? His voice was very calm and soothing. Alexander’s limbs were so tired and heavy, and he thought that sleep was a good thing now.

“John...” He spoke quietly, picking up one of his boyfriend’s hands and playing with his fingers. He sounded shy and guilty. “S-Sorry for interrupting you...”

“It’s okay, Alex. What did you want to say?”

“It’s just, well... I’m very sleepy. I think I’d like to take a nap now.”

“That sounds like a very good idea. You’ll feel better when you wake up.” John started to remove Alexander from his grasp, meaning to lay him down, but the man protested, snuggling back up to his chest. “Babe, you’re gonna get sore if you sleep like this.”

He frowned, eyebrows pinching together as he made himself comfortable. “Don’t care. Let me sleep. Tired.”

***

Alexander Hamilton didn’t remember dreaming.

He usually didn’t anymore, because that was one of the side-affects of his anti-anxiety meds. Dreams were almost foreign to him now, something he could usually reach out, feel its cool mist on his warm fingers, but never have it be an actual attainable thing. Alex supposed that was a good thing. At least he didn’t wake up sweating and shrieking at two in the morning anymore, scaring his various partners half to death. John swore it didn’t bother him, that he understood.

He didn’t.

Alexander Hamilton came back to the world with the help of some electronica music blasting softly, and a quiet voice. John’s voice. Alex moaned softly, burying his head in his partner’s slightly pudgy chest. John worked out more frequently than he had a month before, after that health scare with his father. The doctor said that at his young age, John wasn’t at risk for heart attacks, that if he kept his cholesterol in the healthy range, there wouldn’t be a need for worry.

Alex knew John worried. That was just who he was.

“Oh, oh, hold on just a minute.” Alex felt kisses on his head, light and soft like butterflies. “Did I wake you up? I can shut off the television if you want - Herc and I are watching Project Runway together.” He shook his head.

“‘T’s fine, John... How long did I sleep?” When he sat up, he could hear the popping and creaking of his joints. John had been right. That position he demanded to sleep in wasn’t comfortable at all; there was a dull pain in his neck.

“About three hours. It’s noon now. You look confused, baby.”

“I’m... Why are you watching Project Runway?”

A smile. “Because I like it.”

“You never watch it when I’m around.”

“Guilty pleasure, Alex. We’re allowed to keep harmless guilty pleasures to ourselves. Can’t have you and Laf making fun of me for liking fashion, can I?”

Alex supposed he was right. They already teased Hercules about it endlessly over at the bar, and he wasn’t about to tell John about  _ his _ guilty pleasure. Sitting in the bathtub with his penis under the faucet, thinking about John and Eliza and everybody he thought about fucking or had fucked. Hercules, Angelica, Lafayette. It was a very long list. He never came, though. Never allowed himself that gratification. It was pleasure and it was punishment, just like most things in Alexander’s life. He supposed he could give John his Project Runway fetish.

“I won’t tell Laf. I won’t tease you about it.” His answer was rewarded with a kiss.

“Good. Herc wants to say hi. We’re FaceTiming.” Alex looked at John’s phone: a shitty Iphone 4s. They couldn’t afford much in terms of luxury items, and the only reason they even  _ had _ phones was because both John and Alex, when they wanted to escape the world, tended to drop off the face of the earth, so Lafayette and Hercules made a plan with Sprint so the four of them could always stay connected. Running off was fine, they reluctantly decided, but you at least had to have your phone on you. 

There was a grainy picture of Hercules on the screen, and every fifteen seconds or so it moved slowly with lag. The sound quality was poor as well, but it was constantly streaming through. Alexander could hear the same club music emitting from both television sets, the same ‘If I go home tonight, I’m just going to hug my dog, Sanders, goodbye and jump in front of a car.’ from a fellow contestant.

The amount Alex could relate to that was scary.

“Hi, kid!” Hercules gleefully said, and the other frowned.

“Don’t call me kid, I’m only five months younger than you. I’m not even the youngest in the group.”

“I’m the mom of the group  _ and _ the oldest. You’re all my kids.”

Alex scoffed, rolling his eyes and laughing a little. It felt good to laugh, and it wasn’t even forced. It was moments like these that everyone thought he was making actual progress. “Okay, whatever. Are you going into work tonight?”

“Yep! I’m scheduled for deli because some guy called in sick and I’m supposedly trained.” Trained was surrounded by air quotes. “But I’m gonna try and be on the front end as much as possible. If Craig gives you any bullshit, or Sam, come get me.”

“I think I can handle myself, thanks.” But his voice was quavering and quiet, and again it sounded more like a question than a statement.

“You think Angelica would let it fly if you’re getting ganged up on and I wasn’t there to stop it? Nah. She’d have my fucking head. Just come get me so no one in our group gets murdered. Speaking of work... I should start getting ready, I go in at one. Bye guys, love you.”

Alex handed the phone back to John, kissing his jaw and snuggling up against him. He smelled like home. God, he was an angel, and he deserved everything in the world. He deserved his black wire curls to be made into silk. He deserved his skin to be soft and cool, no blemishes affecting it. He deserved for his lips to forever be luscious and plump, winter winds not dare affecting them. John Laurens deserved a lot of things in the world. A lot of things that Alexander couldn’t give. He grabbed his laptop from the foot of the bed, opening it up and typing in his password with the hand further away from John. The other one snaked it’s way up his shirt, feeling his abs.

“Alexander. What in God’s name are you doing?” Even while keeping his eyes on the computer screen, Alex knew that John was smiling. He was smiling too.

“Working on my essay, dear Laurens.”

“No. I mean with your right hand.” Alex felt John nibble on his earlobe, sending sparks and shivers down his back. “You know better than to lead me on when you want to write.”

“Mm...” He turned his head away to kiss John for a second. It was a deep, languid kiss, and his eyes were closed. He didn’t feel John save his work, or take the laptop away, he just felt safe, light and heavy at the same time. Heat was pooling deep in Alexander’s stomach, and the kisses turned into a battle for dominance, teeth clashing, tongues exploring the other’s mouth.

John pulled away to take off his shirt. Alex let him, pleasantly laying back against the pillows, watching John manage an amazing strip tease. Often times, John said he was inadequate compared to the rest of the group. Alexander could write, could give amazing speeches, and could form hypothetical governments in one sitting. Hercules could sew, could hold more liquor than anybody, and could run a successful business from just the age of eighteen. Lafayette could speak all sorts of different languages, could put on makeup that put a model to shame, and could inspire inner city kids to make the best of their lives. What did John have?

Well... If Alexander had to be honest, John had his body.

John Laurens made Agamemnon look like a wet noodle.

When John finally decided to take his shirt off, Alex leaned up, pressing their mouths together as he ran his hands up and down his abs, smiling when he got a reaction. They both pressed against each other, biting and nipping at their skin, voices rough with passion when all of the sudden -

_ Para bailar la bamba,  para bailar la bamba se necesita una poca de gracia _

“Damn,” Alex growled, pulling away to grab his phone.

“Guilty pleasure?” Smirked John, meaning the spanish song,  humming along to his ringtone, shimmying closer to his boyfriend.

“Yes. No. Shut up. Stop that.”

Alex turned away from John so he wasn’t distracted, and answered on the last ring. “Alexander Hamilton.” A pause. “Ah, no? I’m actually working on my PoliSci essay right now, so... No.” Another pause, and it was plain to see the annoyance on his face. “Look, I understand you’re busy. It’s a Sunday, you should have been more prepared. I’m sorry, but I wasn’t scheduled earlier, and believe it or not I have a  _ life _ outside of this part-time job. Don’t really feel like working ten hours. I’ll see you when I clock in.” He pressed the end call button.

John kissed Alexander’s forehead, pulling him closer. Alex was always the submissive one in their relationship, and that included more than just sex. Though he seemed quite vivid and animated in all of his college room discussions, especially when Jefferson and Madison were involved, the honest truth was that he was a very shy individual, and this only multiplied when he was stressed, sick, or scared. John always took care of him, played the part of a rock, a strong, safe place Alexander could come home to. He knew Alex played the hero of his story for far too long. Playing the same part for almost ten years got boring, and John didn’t mind switching up the roles in the slightest. He would take Alexander Hamilton in whatever form he got.

“Work?”

“Yeah. I told them to fuck off.”

“Mm, I know. I heard.”

“So, I know that you want me to stay home today, but I can’t. I just... I worry about money? And I worry about you eating, which is stupid, but I’m never sure where your next meal is going to come from or even  _ if _ it’s going to come, so even if this is a really shitty minimum wage job, I have to keep working long hours so you’re happy. I know in my mind I need breaks. I know it. But if I take breaks then I lose everything.”

John hummed to let Alex know he was listening as he sat them both up again, grabbed the brush on the table. It was one-fifteen now; they’d have to get ready and out the door in forty-five minutes if Alexander wanted to get there on time. They lived twenty minutes away from the store, yet with the New York City traffic almost always congested, it took them a lot longer. Alex felt John run the brush down his naturally greasy hair, getting what little knots and snags there were out.

“I know. That was wishful thinking. But you never have to worry about me, because even if you never worked a day in your life we still have my mother’s fortune, which is small but could last us a couple of lifetimes. I’m always happy, because I’m always with you, and Alex? Alex, you  _ do _ deserve a break. You deserve it more than anyone else I know.”

Silence, and then, “I miss Angelica.” Meaning the whole ‘break’ thing wasn’t open for discussion anymore.

“I know you do.”

“She made me smile lots.”

“I know.”

“Do you think I can call her?”

“Oh, I don’t think today would be good. She’s very jet lagged because she’s pregnant and also losing seven hours of sleep is not fun. You should know.”

“Am I going to lose her? Like if she comes back... Will she remember all our fun adventures?” John stopped brushing for a minute, and the next thing Alex knew he was facing him, hands on his shoulders, foreheads almost touching.

“No one, and I mean no one, can forget you, Alexander Hamilton.”

***

Craig was not Angelica. 

Angelica was expensive.

Craig was something you bought at a dollar store because you forgot to buy your friend a Christmas present.

Craig, in all honesty, was a cockshit. Alex didn’t like the confident way he carried his large beer belly around, didn’t like his puffed up, cracked lips, how the curled slightly the edge and either looked too dry or too wet at any given time. He didn’t like his thick salt and pepper hair, or how big boned he was. Yeah. He wasn’t just fat. He was big boned. He had sort of a lisp when he spoke, like his tongue was permanently burnt. The worst part, though, was that he made Alex do carts.

John had checked the weather like he always did before dropping Alex off. It was already slightly cloudy out, though it was quite humid and warm. Summer had come to New York City, but with it, terrible thunderstorms that always had Alexander trying to hide in the closet or under the bed. Today, there was a thirty to sixty percent chance of rain. Alex could handle rain. Alex could handle rain. Even so, when John made his dinner (thinly sliced deli chicken with colby cheese on rye, grapes and carrots, sour cream and onion chips, and a homemade cookie) he made sure to pack his anxiety meds and a note to keep his spirits up. When they pulled up to the grocery store, John grabbed Alex’s wrist before he could get out.

“I can come in with you. Walk you to the breakroom. Introduce you to Craig.”

Alex scowled. “I’m not a fucking child, John Laurens.”

“I didn’t say you were. I just know this week has been particularly stressful for you, what with Angelica leaving and all.”

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Just... Have fun with Eliza at Peggy’s party. Wish her happy birthday for me, okay?”

“Alright... You sure you want me to go? Because I don’t mind staying at home. I don’t mind-”

Alexander shut him up quickly by pressing their warm lips together for a long time. It was silent inside the car, and outside you could hear the sounds of the city all around. Car tires crunching gravel. Birds singing. Wind blowing through trees. Sirens. But truthfully, Alex felt like he and John were the only people sincerely alive. When he pulled away, John’s eyes were sparkling.

“ _ I _ mind. Just because you have a boyfriend with severely crippling anxiety doesn’t mean you can’t go out and enjoy yourself. I’ll walk home; the traffic isn’t that bad at eleven, anyways. Plus I have that pepper spray Laf made me get when he heard about how I got home.” Before John could protest, Alex had grabbed his lunch and shut the car door, going inside.

That was two hours ago.

It seemed like the rain was definitely going to come, because within fifteen minutes after he started, while he was strapping carts together, the sky turned from blue to black. On the horizon, there was some emerald green, and emerald green, unless it was John’s eyes, was never a welcome color. Wind blew fiercely, papers showing the store’s coupons and ads were hitting Alex left and right, attaching themselves to his shins. The bun John had done for him became useless, the hair tie ripping right off of his head. When he was heading inside with eight carts, there was a pit in his stomach. He felt something.

Rain.

Cold rain.

In a matter of seconds, it was a downpour, and there was thunder and lightning illuminating the pitch sky, showing the green and purple undertones. Alex felt his heart quicken, and he closed his eyes, running with the carts now, trying to control his breathing.  _ In, _ he heard John’s voice.  _ Out, _ breathed Eliza.  _ In. _ Lafayette.  _ Out. _ Hercules.  _ In. _ Angelica. _ Out. _ Angelica. Angelica. Breathing didn’t work, Angelica was caught in the storm. Maybe the storm was crossing over the ocean this morning, and Angelica was caught in it. It had been dark then, just like it was now, so maybe Angelica was dead.

Alex felt his feet slip on the wet pavement, and thank God he wasn’t going uphill. Thank God he was mostly underneath a sheltered part of the building, right by the door. Alexander just laid there, letting wetness spread throughout his body. His arms and feet were pins and needles, both his head and heart were pounding and there were  _ tears _ and  _ screams _ . He wasn’t in New York City now. He was in the Caribbean, in the hurricane that destroyed everything he’d ever known. It had come back, just like he said it would just like he knew it would and no one believed him but it did. It came back because it saw how happy he had made himself, how he built himself up from nothing, and he had John and people who  _ loved _ him and Alex knew that and the hurricane knew that and the hurricane had to eradicate everything happy in Alexander’s life.

_ Help. Help help help. There’s water. _ Alexander thought but maybe he was screaming it because his throat hurt, and maybe no one could help him because everyone was dead.  _ There’s water there’swaterohmygodhelp. John. John where’sjohnandelizaaretheysafe? Are they safearetheysafe? I want to die let me die let me die letmedieI’llbehappy. I’m sorrysorrysorry. _ His vision was going black, darker and darker, and maybe he  _ was _ dying?

“Alexander!” A voice yelled out, but it didn’t sound angry, more like it was concerned or trying to get Alex’s attention. A second later, he was hauled up to his feet by a strong force. “Oh Jesus Christ,  _ Alexander. _ ”

Alex didn’t remember much, only a dark, blurry face that was obscured by the rain. Warmth and light. The light was a soft yellow, not the bright white of lightning. Lightning.  _ Lightning. Where was Lafayette? Was he okay washeokaynoLafisdeadLafisnotokay. _ There was more wetness on his leg, bringing him out of his thoughts momentarily because this wetness was warm and not cold so where was he? No more wind and no more rain indicated that there was no more storm but Alexander thought that exact thing during the hurricane and then the hurricane came back stronger than ever. The warm wetness was on his hands now, and he was pretty sure a voice was talking but hearing and deciphering were two different things and Alex couldn't do both he was so tired.

“Alexander?” This voice was different, and though it sounded crackly and staticy it seemed more close than the other voice. “Alexander. My Ham. Alex. Alexander.”

_ Angelica. _

“Yes, yes, Alexander. It’s me. It’s your favorite sister, Angelica.” Alex didn’t remember saying her name out loud, but he had to, and they weren’t brother and sister because he never married Eliza because he tried to kill himself and- “Deep breaths, Hammie. In, two, three four. Out, two, three, four.” His vision was returning but he never closed his eyes and it was bright and he groaned so some lights were turned off and he stopped squinting and followed Angelica’s instructions. “You’re at work, in the breakroom, and you’re  _ fine. _ John’s on his way now, just keep breathing for me. You can do that, can’t you? I know you like a challenge. Would you like to challenge me, Alex?”

Alexander Hamilton always liked a good challenge.

He nodded, but said yes just in case Angelica wasn’t actually here.

“Good. My challenge to you is keep breathing just like you are. If you can breathe longer than I can, there’s going to be a surprise for you. No punishment this time.”

Hercules was in the breakroom with him. When did Hercules get there? He was wet... Was Hercules in the rain? If Hercules was in the rain who else was in the rain was John in the rain or Eliza or Lafayette and - “Breathe. In, out, in out.” He did so, per Angelica’s request.

Alex kept looking around, noticing more and more with his returning mind and vision. The anxiety blanket from his backpack was placed around him, and it was the same as last time only this time there were baseballs and bats instead of chicken legs. He used to play baseball with the neighborhood boys back in St. Croix. He still to this day watched the College World Series religiously. His Xanax pills and a cup of water were on the table and Alex knew they would help him but he was paralyzed.

“Angelica...” His voice sounded weird, like it was stuffed with cotton balls and maybe his... breakdown... was so severe it added something new to the mix. “O-Oh... I’m sorry, I didn’t mean t-to interrupt you...”

“You are complete and totally fine, Alexander. What is it?”

“When are you coming home? S-sorry... John says you’re tired... this is really stupid...” He played with his fingers, unnaturally shy.

“No, no. I’m not tired. The baby is keeping me up, and when it comes to you and your health, nothing is ever stupid. Don’t ever say that. I’ll come home for the fourth of July. That’s six weeks away, Ham.”

“I think I hurt my leg or something, Ange... It really hurts.”

Before Angelica could speak again, Hercules came and sat down by Alex, who leaned his head on his broad, slightly damp shoulder. “You were caught in the storm, Alex. I’m not mad at you, you didn’t know it could move in that fast. You were screaming and crying and I came as soon as I heard the first clap of thunder, but the deli was so busy. Craig forgot he’d sent you out, and tried to tell me that you were fine, that a little rain never hurt anybody. I went outside anyways, found you lying halfway out in the rain. I put the carts back inside and grabbed you. Your leg was bleeding because you cut it on one of the stands. I took you in here and you weren’t responding to the warm washcloth or my voice or the blanket, so I called John and Angelica.”

“Where is John?”

“On his way. When he heard he started screaming and cursing as he ran to his car. Man is  _ livid, _ Alex, you shoulda heard him.”

“Where’s ‘fayette?”

“Bartending for a rich couple at a wedding. Completely safe, I promise. The storm didn’t get anyone, Alexander. Everyone is safe.”

“Angelica?” Alex turned back to the phone.

“Yeah?”

“You’re safe, right? The baby is safe? Your husband is safe?”

He swore he could hear the smile in her golden voice. “Yes. We are all safe, Alexander.”

“Good. That makes me feel good.”

“I’m glad. Just keep breathing. In, two, three four. Out, two, three, four.”

Five minutes later and John was rampaging into the breakroom, face purple with fury and Craig following behind him. Though Alex’s boss toward over his boyfriend, John puffed out his chest and made the other man look smaller than he. The veins in his neck were popping out, pulsating blood to his face, and his hands were curled into fists. John only looked this way when he was about to fucking murder somebody. “Sir, really, you can’t be back here unless you’re an employee-”

“Fuck you! Seriously! Fucking fuck you! What’re you gonna fucking do, you piece of motherfucking shit? Call the fucking cops?! Fucking do it! I fucking dare you! I’ll sue your fucking ass for negligence and workman’s comp! I have half the mind to beat you senseless right here and now, but I wouldn’t touch you and fucking dirty myself! Fuck you! Can’t come in here unless I’m an employee, fuck you! Get the  _ fuck _ out of my sight!” Craig, after a moment, decided that John wasn’t kidding, and left the break room in a huff. John knelt in front of Alexander, gave Hercules a wary smile, and gave all his attention to his boyfriend.

“Alex. Alexander, baby. Can you hear me?” The other man just nodded. “Okay, that’s really good. I see you’re practicing your breathing. I’m so proud of you, baby. Is Angelica on the line?”

“Yes,” Her voice cut through.

“Ah, that’s good. That’s perfect.” Alex saw John reach for the pills and water, and tensed up. “I know. I know, baby. You don’t like water. But you only need a little tiny sip, and I promise the Xanax will help the hurricane go away. Afterwards we can get some food into you and go home and just sleep. It’s okay. It’s okay.” Alex let John help him take the pills, let him lift him up so John could hold him in his strong arms. “It’s okay. It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay. You’re safe now. I’m so sorry. You’re safe.”

Hercules, in turn, grabbed both men and sat them both on his large lap. Alexander always felt safe with Hercules, because yeah, he was big boned, but he took care of himself. Never once did he see Hercules eat meat, mostly salads, and he knew he went to the gym for three hours before work. “Talking is hard,” Alex whispered, and his tense fingers started to relax; the pills were already working.

“Hey, Alex?” It was Angelica again, and she was yawning. “Are you betternow? If you aren’t, that’s totally okay. I’m not rushing you. I don’t want you to feel like you have to patch yourself up this instant just for my sake, because if you’re not I’ll stay on the line. But I’m trying really hard to stay awake.” He looked to Hercules, trying to convey his message, and the man smiled.

“He’s got us, Ange. He’s going to be okay now. Thank you for all your help, please get some sleep.”

“Will do, Mulligan. Keep me updated. I love you, Alexander. I’ll see you for the fourth.” The line went dead, and John smoothed down Alexander’s damp hair, kissing his forehead and rocking him.

“I was so scared... So scared, Alex. Herc called me right after the storm ended and I forgot about everything but you. He said you were fine but I had to make sure, because I know bosses can be assholes, and I wasn’t positive they let you calm down.” He sniffed. Alex kissed away the tears that clung to his jawline. John wiped his eyes. “Can you eat something? I know you don’t have much of an appetite after a major attack, but you don’t have anything in your system and you’re shaking.”

Normally, Alexander would have protested any food, but John was right, and John was also shaking, and Mulligan had gone a little pale with fright, so he let John tear off bites of the chocolate chip cookie and feed it to him. He felt like throwing up. He managed not to.

On the ride home, John played the station Eliza had earlier in the morning, and Alex noticed he was just driving around the city. John did that a lot, just went somewhere for no particular reason and no destination in mind. He knew eventually they would end up back at home, in their own bed and safe in each other’s arms. Alex tugged the blanket around his shoulders tighter, snuggling into the backseat more, practiced his breathing, thought of Angelica.

Alexander Hamilton fell asleep in the back of the car, feeling like serein.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreicated. What do you want to see next? Let me know!


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